Trying To Make Sense Of Things
by RealMe07
Summary: One friend is having an affair with her friend's husband. Her friend is breaking apart-and fast. Seeing this, the first friend wants to be done with life, but realizes suicide is too easy. So going undercover for work with the strong possibility of being shot, is the perfect answer. When she dies, how will the second friend make sense of things? (Mentions of cheating)!ONE SHOT!


**A/N: Another song fic...what can I say? I like my music. **** This one's inspired by Ex-Old Man sung by Kristen Kelly. I hope you guys enjoy! This is only a one-shot, because I just can't get into another epic now…but if there's enough reviews saying they want a sequel, a one-shot might be written. ;)**

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"Yes! Harder …Oh! Yeah, right there, baby!" Emily's screams rung throughout the bedroom where she was beyond forbidden to be by the such-good-friends-we-could-be-sisters book of rules (made and typed up by Garcia, of course). Today was an exception to be there, for their routine that is. His family was gone to see her parent's, and he lied claiming he had been called in for work. So they went at it in her lover's and best friend's bed.

This was the one thing she promised herself she'd never do…after all; she'd never want this to happen to her. She'd _kill_ Garcia and JJ if they ever screwed her man, not that she had one, or even flirted with him. And yet, as she stared at the picture of a little blue-eyed boy on the wooden night stand, she felt no guilt, and looked into he same blue eyes her secret lover possessed.

She shrieked as another loud orgasm ran through her veins, her brain momentarily shutting off, and her body shuddering uncontrollably atop the brown haired man she was still joined with, her arms clasped behind his naked back, squeezing so hard she could swear he couldn't breathe. For more than that reason, that is.

"I love you." She whispered into his hot ear. She kissed his lips gently before rolling out of his bed and grabbing her work clothes and putting them on hesitantly, not wanting to ever leave him or his grip.

But then she thought about where she was, who she was with, and what would happen if a certain angry lady came in and caught the two going at it like rabbits as they did every other Saturday or day they had free.

That's their schedule. It had been for the past four months.

Going on dates was too dangerous-they both knew a lot of people in the D.C. area. Dating at his house was too dangerous; who knew if she and their son would show up at the door and see her scantily clad in only very revealing lace lingerie? What would she tell them: surprise? Would the pieces fall into place for her? Would they be caught?

It was all too much stress and worrying; so every free Saturday when the two had off they would sign into a cheap-and maybe even illegal-motel as husband and wife and just screw each other all night, never staying at the same run-down motel twice. From seven to eleven was the deal. And she bought it. I guess with his job, meetings would be regular. She never got the pattern, any ways.

The only thing that bugged her was that she never felt any guilt whatsoever. This was her best friend's husband…they even had a child together! She wasn't married, not that she hadn't broken that rule before, and they were lying multiple times about their identities to poor teenage motel workers.

She sighed when she didn't receive an 'I love you, Emily' back. She mentally hit herself for that…he was married and obviously didn't love her. She was simply his play toy. Hit living toy that pleasured, relaxed, and loved him when he needed the release. That was all she meant to him. She didn't love him and never would. She started to wonder if love was actually something he was capable of. After all, he obviously didn't love his wife. Maybe feeling _was_ impossible. Maybe he was just numb of everything a person felt. No…she'd been down that road before and he wasn't that, she knew it.

She buttoned the final button on her suit jacket with shaking fingers and grabbed her purse she had dropped as they entered his room. She glanced up at him, finding him sleeping soundly in his bed, sheets crumpled, his stubble showing, and a barely noticeable line of drool dripping down his chin.

'_That's why you're here, you whore.' _Her mind screamed at her as she nodded in agreement to herself. She regained her posture, sniffled, and wiped the needless tears from her eyes.

She walked past the family photos in the short, but seemingly long, hallway. She refused to look at the familiar blonde who stared back at her guilty friend in the photo frame atop the fireplace in the family room. She slammed the door, leaving the heart-wrenching and unforgettable memories behind it.

But she knew she'd be back eventually. Because she just couldn't stay away; no matter how bad she wanted to.

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"I never thought he'd propose!" Penelope Garcia squealed from her seat outside the little coffee shop, her left hand extended. She showed off the visibly expensive diamond engagement band her fiancé had just given to her a few days ago. She was happy as could be, and JJ teared up just remembering how happy she was when her husband proposed. That was gone ten months after they'd gotten married.

"Well I know you and Kevin will be very happy making adorable little tech babies." Emily teased.

"Maybe not the baby part yet…the first part you can definitely count on." She giggled back.

The two grew quiet and their happy faces soon turned grim as they glanced over at their other friend who was now wiping her tears from her face, her eyeliner and mascara smearing in the process. Garcia was the first to make a move, her sweater-clad arm tightening around the crying blonde. She leaned in, and all that was heard for several moments was JJ's muffled cries.

"JJ?" Emily asked as her whimpers became less frequent and loud. Her head popped up from Garcia's shoulder and Emily had to hold in a gentle smile as she stared at her messy blonde locks and smudged makeup running down her tear-stained face. "He might not even be cheating on you…why would you think that, anyways?"

"No…no he _is_, Emily. He is! I know he is." She shook her head fiercely and broke free from her friend's grasp quickly.

"But _why_, JJ?" Emily pressured.

"Look." JJ shoved her phone in Emily's lap, forcing her to look at the familiar pair of black lace panties. "I don't own thongs…I never found them comfortable. I usually wear some other sexy lingerie, but never thongs!" She covered her face with her hands, breaking into tears once again. "I took the picture so he wouldn't suspect I knew or so I could see if he'd do anything about them, but he _didn't_. And I know why." She sniffled.

Emily couldn't rip her eyes from the small undergarment. It wasn't just familiar…but it was _hers_. Suddenly, glancing over at her broken friend, now with a broken family, broken life.

And she was the monster who caused it.

She couldn't do anything but firmly embrace her friend, letting her cry on her shoulder. The weeping grew louder in her ears. Her muffled cries rang throughout the whole earth. Her crumpled heart practically lying in front of her.

JJ wiped her eyes once more. "I should start wearing water-proof makeup. Or none at all...I don't have to be impressive anymore."

Garcia had tears blurring her vision, but Emily's of guilt and regret were threatening to fall any second. She couldn't take JJ's crying anymore, or Garcia's empathy, or even herself. She was done. Or at least wanted to be.

But suicide was too easy.

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"This unsub stalks women and kills in a direct method-almost as execution." Hotch began. "He believes women need to be punished for their infidelity towards their spouse or partner."

"Now this unsub comes and goes. And he does it quickly, sufficiently, and never leaves a print." Rossi continued.

"So, we need to go undercover. Two men, two women." Prentiss stated. "In one scenario, the woman will be the wrongdoer, and the other, the man."

"We're, uh, doing this to see if he would change his M.O. or if it's strictly women he goes after. If so, it would most likely be due to the fact that he himself was a victim of such events." Reid added.

"Myself and Agent Hotchner are going undercover," Morgan began. "I will be the target in this first scenario, and Agent Jareau will be my partner. Agent Prentiss will be targeted and Agent Hotchner her partner. We believe she will be targeted before us." He motioned between him and JJ.

"Armed agents will be on the scene undercover as bystanders, also, ready for whatever might come." Rossi said.

"SWAT is ready for backup just minutes from where we will be posing." Hotch closed. "Thank you."

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"James Milton, this is David Rossi from the FBI! Put your weapon down!" Rossi yelled at the unsub who currently had his gun pointed at Emily's chest. He'd already tried to shoot Hotch, but JJ got in the way and took the bullet to her shoulder. Hotch was currently applying pressure to her wound, but paying more attention to the action ahead of him, wanting to do something.

"She's a liar! And a whore! Do…do you even _know _what she's done?" Milton stuttered as he shook his gun at her. "How many men she's slept with? How many _married_ men I mean." He gave Emily a dirty glare, his eyes filled with anger.

"James, this is Emily Prentiss she's-"

"I am a whore, James. You're right." Emily interrupted Rossi. "I have slept with many men, but not married men."

"Prentiss!" Rossi hissed. Emily glared at him and turned her attention back to the man holding a gun in front of her.

"The truth is…" She looked over at JJ who was cramming her head to see what the hell her friend was doing. "The only married man I've slept with is Will LaMontagne Junior."

And then her world went black.

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JJ stood up straight, relieving her ankles from her previous stance of kneeling on her toes. Her sling wavered as she moved and thankfully Morgan caught her from behind before she fell.

"Thanks." She mumbled under her breath, her eyes never leaving the headstone. "I can't believe she's gone…"

"Me either." Morgan sighed as he turned his head, no longer able to look at the cause of his pained heart.

"No, Derek, I mean _actually _gone." She hissed angrily. "I felt her pulse, watched her go into surgery from the waiting room and watched her never walk out. I watched them place her body in that casket and I watched them place her six foot under." She took a deep breath. "And yet…I'm waiting for Hotch to call me, saying she's coming home." She let a single tear roll down her left cheek and stain her blush, not caring what she looked like any longer.

"JJ…" Morgan began.

"But I need to be a good mom for Henry, and get through the divorce papers with Will, and…and…Oh, God, it's just such a mess. My _life's_ such a mess!" She ran her slender fingers through her hair in distress. "Shouldn't I be mad?" She finally turned to face Morgan, his brows knit together in a bundle of emotions. "I mean, she pretty much caused my divorce, lied to my face, and practically killed herself."

"I can't decide your feelings for you, JJ. And I know you want to feel the anger and hate, but the guilt you're somehow feeling and the pain is just weighing you down right now. You need to give it some time. It _will_ eventually make sense, JJ, and I promise you that." He placed a comforting had on her shoulder.

"I called her my best friend." JJ sighed, took one last look at the grave of the person she used to know, and got in her car.

Maybe Morgan was right. Maybe, someday, this would all make sense.

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**A/N: Woo! How was that? I think listening to 'Skyscraper' on repeat for twenty some minutes put me in a semi-angsty mood, so I decided to finish this little piece up! **

**Like it? Love it? Hate it? Leave me your thoughts in a review! **


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